Fullmetal Scars
by miniskirtarmyrecruit
Summary: When FMA: Brotherhood ended in 2011, the retellings of the Fullmetal Alchemist's adventures never did... 2021 AU
1. The Midwest in 2021

AN: It just occurred to me how childish and stupid the character survey thing looked, so I deleted it. Hopefully, it'll stop turning people away from the story just because of the stupidity of the first chapter. But anyhow, I don't own FMA as a disclaimer, now onto the story:

* * *

"Hear thee, my children, for God's love extends to all. Allow me to be his messenger, the bearer of God's word..." Static broke through the antique radio's message. On cue, a furious flurry of gold stood up and stretched. His armored partner turned to stare at him.

"Sermons on the radio...?" The blond shrugged at this, his golden locks and ponytail catching on his bright red shirt. This time around, he returned the stare. He turned a curiously golden eye towards his conspicuously armored friend on a nearby stool. His metallic fingers were fidgeting on the top of the marble counter. They locked eyes for a moment before the blond slumped his shoulders.

"Just another messenger of God, Al..." His white combat gloves shot into the pocket of his nylon cargo trousers, fishing around for something. The lump of armor called Al sighed in return, planting his helmet on the table top. Dust blew about the dirt road the open restaurant bordered and swirled about their stools, carrying with it the stifling heat.

"Ed, just how many times have we done this now?" Al mumbled through his arms. After tossing a few bills next to his glass, Ed pocketed his wallet and put a reassuring hand on Al's back.

"Enough for Colonel Bastard to make a molehill from the paperwork. But seriously, let's get to work." The mass of armor refused to move. Ed tweaked his eyebrow past the shooting glasses adorning his forehead. The sweat glistening off his neck was testament to the evaporating patience he had.

"You still haven't finished your drink, brother. Don't waste any more money than you already do."

"I'm not supposed to be drinking on the job anyways, why do you insist?"

"Fine, fine, but where do we go from here?" There was still no movement from him.

"No idea, this whole thing just seems like a joke..."

"Are you sure you two aren't the joke? You look like you stumbled out of Michael Bay's closet. Armor, long sleeved shirts, combat gear, really?" Two irritated stares were shot at the venue owner. He took no notice as he shined another glass.

"In the same sense that this religious cult looks like it stumbled out of Dan Brown's closet." Only showing the slightest hint of irritation, the owner dropped the glass in the rack and turned to face the brothers.

"You know, if you gave it a shot, you'd find that Father Cornello's teachings are superb. It's amazing, truly the real thing!" Ed scoffed at his enthusiasm, turning his attention down the street. Al however, kept his eye on the mustache adorned man.

"Father who?"

"Cornello!" A random customer piped up, "the chosen one of God! Incredible man, he came to this city a while back and rescued us from our sins! He also has the power to grant miracles!" A collective murmur swept across the open bar, with only snippets traveling to the ears of either brother. The blond's ears in particular seemed to be connected in a straight line, as nothing registered across his face. He yawned widely, arms stretched back to the customers' general irritation.

"Are you even listening?" The owner shot. Ed stuck a toothpick in his mouth and shrugged.

"Not interested in religion," he said casually. He glanced at his watch, which proudly proclaimed the time of 1:34, June 11th 2021. Of course it had to be the hottest time of day and the two had to be outside. "Come on, Al, I need to move around. This bar's too hot. Hell," he grumbled as he rolled his shoulders back, "this whole backwater prairie is too hot." Before either could make take more than two steps from the dirty, exposed restaurant, a young woman shot through the crowd towards them. Her pink bangs and brown hair whipped around her face as she closed the distance.

"Rose!" the owner yelled out, smiling widely, "what brings you here today?" She slowed and smiled back, digging through a paper bag for something. She placed an envelope on the bar's counter.

"Just a message from the Father. Who are you two, by the way? It's rare that we get visitors." Ed was visibly taken aback by the girl's loudness. Even his toothpick stopped fidgeting about, but Al picked up on his brother's silence.

"Passerby tourists. Me and my brother Edison have been wandering around all the Midwest states."

"Oh, well hope you enjoy your stay at Liore! It's quite isolated, so nothing interesting happens around here, but you can always visit the church! Father Cornello would love to give his blessings to you two! Even if you don't go, I hope God protects you wherever you travel!" Without another word, she disappeared back into the throng of people. Feeling slightly annoyed, Ed beckoned Al to hurry out.

But before he did, he caught the owner mumbling to himself: "Thank God Cornello came. It's good to see a smile on Rose's face after that…"

* * *

A few hours later, Al stood rock solid in the shadows by Ed, contrasting heavily against the blond's jelly spine slumped against the cold pew. Ed had insisted upon coming here, only to find the usual high ceiling, dim lighting, rows of pews, raised altar, and a giant statue of god set into a hollow behind the altar. While decorations adorned nearly every inch of the church, Ed was staring solely at the simple altar with an impassive face, an ankle on the opposing knee. His brow was the only thing that changed from his usual expression, which was furrowed slightly in thought. Not even the pigeon hidden in the rafters stirred in the silence.

Apparently, from the tales the local residents said, the miracle man Cornello had been reputed to a number of successful human revivals. It started with the dead mayor, the beloved of the town, supposedly being brought back to life. The story only mentioned that in an offer of goodwill, rule of the town was handed to Cornello, quickly turning the locale into a miniature theocracy. The populace, once rowdy and unmanageable, quickly fell under the influence of the prophet, swayed by the "revivals." The problem was, nobody ever witnessed the process or the products. Every single revival case ended in the person leaving the country promptly after, usually followed by an accidental death if the person's disappearance was looked into. It was the same disappointing fate that would befall that Rose girl from earlier, who prayed vigorously for the return of her dead boyfriend.

"Speak of the devil," Ed muttered as the same person that his musings revolved about broke his concentration. She took no notice of the pair in the dark as she presented her offerings to the altar. Quiet pervaded her visit. Only the occasional murmur escaped the girl's lips, some rustling as the offerings were given, and soft squeaks as the altar was given a polishing. For the sheer amount of metal their bodies contained, both brothers stayed surprisingly silent. Unable to bear sitting around in more silence, Ed sighed. Rose snapped around, shocked to see the man from before slouch even deeper into the groaning bench.

"So, rinsing and repeating the cycle of worship somehow makes these miracles happen, does it?" Al shifted uncomfortably as Ed spoke; Rose noticeably bristled.

"Well, I was going to ask if you were interested in the Order, but never mind that. Just read a Bible and you'll get your answer" she said defensively. Ed leaned his head against the bench back, proudly displaying his smirk.

"Sorry, atheist, I couldn't sift through those texts even if someone relabeled it as '21st century mythology'. But I guess that answer would be a yes, given the usual pattern. And speaking of patterns, what so special about this particular cult that makes it worth following? To me, each following's only gone to the dust, labeled as a myth by their successor." He brought a hand above his face, eying it as he toyed with the stitching on the glove. Increasingly impatient with the stranger's unabashed rudeness, Rose retorted:

"None of them had Father Cornello! He's a real miracle worker!" He scoffed, dropping his hand back onto his pack beside him.

"Mhmm. Like the miracle of bringing people back from the dead? That would truly be a miracle."

"Because they are! He really is a miracle worker!" Rose insisted. Ed laughed uproariously at the ceiling. He snapped his head forward to look at the annoyed girl.

"Right… Well, I bet he charges a fortune for such a rare occurrence. Given how much it costs to just keep one person alive, it'd be quite something to raise the dead." He paused to dig out a tattered notebook and leaf to a worn page. Ed stomped on, ignoring the girl's inherent readiness to snap out some response. "My costs for living for the past decade were… Well, it's quite the sum, not to mention medical expenses: those go through the roof. No wonder they made such a big fuss about healthcare when I was a kid. But, well, it's been a decade like I said. Modern science has really pulled through and now living is much cheaper with each new technology. At this rate, you might as well sit back and wait for science to figure out how to bring one back from the dead. It'll be much cheaper to bring back your boyfriend." He flipped to another page and scanned through to a section. His obviously fake concentration showed that he was making it a point to avoid Rose's stricken face. "Oxygen, 43 kilos, Hydrogen, 7, Carbon, 16, Nitrogen, 1.8, Calcium, 1, and 1.2 kilograms of 55 other elements… they're all ingredients you can buy at the supermarket with the leftover change in a kid's pocket. Ha... Humans are pretty cheap, as it turns out…" Al shifted uncomfortably at each passing comment: Rose was clearly on the edge, who burst out an interruption.

"That's… blasphemy! You can't just treat people like objects! How dare you disregard the creator and his work like that!"

"His work? Well, if you'd drop the scriptures and study some science, you'd come a lot closer to 'God' and his work. Who knows," he shrugged his shoulders, "maybe even get a chance to play god, too." She narrowed her eyes at the tourist, lips pressed as menacingly as possible.

"God will not forget this… He will let you burn for allowing the sin of pride encompass you." Ed laughed again, a knowing smirk across his face. He closed his eyes and faked a thoughtful expression.

"Oh, of course, this story, Icarus? Sorry, the Greeks beat you to the punch. Something about a hero on wax wings who thought he could touch the sun. Cast straight down because the wax melted when he got near it. Drowned at sea, lowest of the low. Familiar? Never mind it; I doubt you'd know anything about other mythology if you fell for the latest iteration."

"Well, whatever you're insinuating won't work. Father Cornello is a true saint, he's worked miracles and we've seen them!" He scoffed at this.

"Seen them? Right. I'd love to see them. Is there a waiting list or something? I'd really like to see for myself. You know how we cynics work…"

"You…! You hopeless heathen! Have you even tried talking to Father Cornello?"

"Of course we did; he was busy every single time. Does he always turn his followers away like this?" Without another word, she turned and walked through a side door. With the final resounding slam, the church fell back to its usual peace. Feeling that his body had tensed in the conversation, he lazily relaxed, stretching his legs and arms. They clicked in unison, crackling almost with a bored resignation. Folding his arms and crossing his feet, Ed waited in silence.

"Brother, did you really have to be that rude? You don't need to push your cynicism onto other people, you know…" Al began. Ed shrugged unapologetically.

"I know, I know, but it got the job done." Al stirred, visibly irritated.

"Got what done?" he asked indignantly. Ed waved off his rising voice as he dug out a canteen from his pack.

"Give it some time. You'll know what I mean. If she's gone off and done what I thought she'd do, then we just have to wait." Al's usually inexpressive face had a hard time hiding his discomfort. He didn't have to try stifling it for too long, as the door opened again. Rose was followed in by a smiling, old man. Given his lack of hair and the width of his chin, Ed had to repress the urge to laugh at how monkish he looked. He instead allowed himself a small grin in anticipation as he watched Rose converse quietly with the old man. A steeled look on her face, she turned to the pair and spoke up.

"Well, here you go, this is Father Cornello, he is willing to talk to you about our religion," she spat as they got up onto the platform of the altar. Cornello quickly put out a hand.

"Thank you, Rose, I can manage. Now, what names has God blessed upon the two of you?" he asked, smiling as if to blind them.

"Edison and Allister Selby. Don't worry, we won't take long. So, magic man, you bring people back from the dead?" The fingers fidgeting about the priest's cane paused for a moment.

"Not so much magic, but the blessings of God himself."

"Care to show us?"

"God does not reveal himself to just anyone. When he deems a person worthy, he will act upon his or her wishes as a reward for their devotion."

"Right, so automatically all scientists and anyone with a shred of common sense is not going to be able to see it happen. Can we at least see someone who was revived that didn't mysteriously die after running away from the country?" It was clear that despite the most charming "old-man" smile that dominated his facial expressions, his body betrayed a growing annoyance. The Father clearly had lost his touch in dealing with the skeptical.

"I'm afraid not, none remain long enough."

"Alright, well, I guess we're at square one again, with as much credibility as the story of Jack and the Beanstalk ever happening." Ed sighed. Shifting over in his seat to access his pocket, Ed flashed his State Alchemist watch. The almighty symbol of unhinged, limitless government power. "So let's try a different approach. Are you hiding anything?" he said, with the taunting wiggle of the piece. Cornello's fingers tensed on the cane, but he appeared to have collected his thoughts before speaking again.

"What do you intend to do with that? There is nothing to hide in our humble paradise. God would not allow such mistrust in his chosen land." There was a certain panic laced in the calm words.

"I dunno. Say, what if your humble paradise 'magically,'" Ed gave the watch another lazy flick, "disappeared? What's next?" The priest balked at this, fear finally surfacing. Channeling his emotions to rage, Cornello's warming expression grew harsh with anger.

"You insistent fool. If you so demand, I invite you to witness the rise of Rose's loved one, but don't think that God will allow you to run free. Thy lord shall bear his wrath upon you in due time for your crimes." Rose had been mirroring Cornello's emotions quite well up to this point. However, she suddenly departed from the mimicry to beam in shock.

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine, we're used to the drill. Ironic though, that wrath is one of the seven sins. So when's the party?"

"Tomorrow morning. I will have to do the preparations all of tonight to have God accept our request," the Father said curtly, sounding colder than before. Ed let out a small groan, sliding off the pew to crumple onto the ground. Al nudged him with his foot.

"Tomorrow? Huh, we'll have to find somewhere to camp out, Al. What a pain in the ass…" Unnerved by the man's discomfort, Cornello turned his back to them. His preachy voice, however, came back.

"Well, as deep-seated as your skepticism is, God's grace extends to all souls. Rose, please bring them to my humble office. I will speak to Brother Cray about providing… accommodations for the two." She nodded at the Father, walking briskly down the center. She shot the two a dark glare, but Ed dismissed it. It was just another "saving-face" action that tried to mask her excessively giddy excitement over the return of her beloved. Hefting his pack, Ed sauntered out, with Al in tow. He made sure to note Cornello's out-of-character expression as he left.

* * *

Al honestly didn't know why he never intervened. He could never be certain what his brother was doing, but he did have a decent clue. Ed was almost always scheming, laying out the foundations for something to happen, even if it was something as simple as light conversation with the neighbor. The problem was, his brother's hot head and pigheadedness tended to get to him at times, so Al never knew when his actions were thought out or not. He couldn't differentiate them anyways, so he prayed that things would just go their way.

As of now, it seemed like it was. As, well, once-undercover Alchemists, Ed had gotten the two to the core of their mission. They were supposed to observe the rising religion that nestled in this town. Their commanding officer merely informed them that the reason for their actions was the "unusual activities" of the organization but kept his mouth pressed to a line the remainder of the brief. Typical. As members of the world's most powerful agency, everything and anything was expected from them as operatives. Whatever oddities lie in wait, they had to keep on their toes. Unfortunately, pissing off the locals wasn't doing much to help with that (that poor Rose, Ed can be emotionally oblivious at times).

Speaking of which, Rose seemed to be being bipolar, skipping along at times and others glaring at the indifferent Ed. It wasn't such a long walk to the office – it was in the same building after all, but Ed somehow managed to aggravate Rose even more during the short period.

"So who is this guy anyways? Kain was it?" Rose's face was a mingle of exploding pride and irritation that Ed had even talked.

"Yes, Kain, my late boyfriend. I can't understand why God would let the idiots live while killing off the good people. But I've learned not to question his actions. God always has a plan for everybody; whatever duty Kain has in the other world is being put on hiatus," she noted somewhat scathingly. Ed's expression didn't change.

"Well, I'm half dead, so that makes me half as idiotic compared to you." The girl was about to explode in fury before curiosity got the better of her. But that emotion was then overturned by coldness that explained the force she used to open the door to the Father's office.

Father Cornello was still apparently busy speaking to Brother Cray, as neither were there yet. Al could see Ed's amber eyes sweeping though the room, something inherently on his mind. Again, he was already scheming as usual. Rose didn't seem to notice, as she was staring wistfully out of the window. Ed quickly snuck up behind Rose and nosed through Cornello's desk, fingers trailing about the wooden piece. He paused to take out something from his pocket, fidget with something on the desk and return next to the door.

Satisfied with his observations, Ed sighed, eyes shut and sliding down the nearest barren wall. There really was nothing to look at in the Father's office. There was nothing but walls, desk, and broadcasting equipment. Making sure that Rose was still turned the other way, Al took out the fasteners that secured his helmet in place and began oiling the neck joint. The creaking was agitating him badly, and made him feel like an old man. Rather unexpectedly before he could finish, the door opened. Al scrambled to hide the oil applicator, squeezing it in with his collar.

A tall, muscular man dressed in all black robes strode in after the Father, who greeted Rose. He eyed the brothers suspiciously, probably sizing them up. His musing was justified, given that it was unusual for someone to wear metal armor on a regular day, or wear it at all, no less in a church. The man, Cray, gave them a curt acknowledgement and ushered them out of the room. He seemed quite irritated at Al's slow and deliberate moves, but it was better than nothing considering that his helmet was still unfastened. Guards armed with spears and white robes followed along with Rose. Armed? That was a little unusual for a church…

The convoy reached the end of the hallway, where an unmarked white door stood adamantly locked before them. The Brother swiftly unlocked it, the door creaking in dejection. The room was pitch black, lacking windows and lights. The Brother made no move to light the room as he strode inside, waiting for the brothers to enter as well. He blended in quite well, given his dark robes and skin. Ed sauntered in after his armored brother but suddenly straightened his back from his usual slouch. Spears were crossed against his neck and Al had a gun drawn on him. Brother Cray's face hardened, forcing the gun threateningly against his head.

"What have you Alchemist pigs come here for?" he snarled. Rose was too stunned to make a noise. When neither of the brothers spoke, Rose's voice returned.

"Brother, what is the meaning of this?" the man readjusted his grip on the sidearm.

"You saw them, threatening to destroy our paradise. We cannot allow this to happen!" Brother Cray roared as he fired at Al's head. The helmet carried with it Al's head as it soared through the air, his decapitated body slumping before the Brother's feet. Ed's eyes only narrowed as Rose screamed. Cray stepped over Al's unmoving body and kept the gun pointed. He seemed vaguely surprised at Ed's lack of panic.

"Why did you kill…?" she stammered.

"This is God's will, Rose." He pulled back the hammer, taking aim again.

"What a mean god." Cray froze as the headless man pinched the gun flat. Rose screamed yet again, creating a chaotic atmosphere of unrelenting fear. It was the perfect opportunity for brother to escape his captor's weapons…

And soon enough, both guards were on the ground, their spears embedded in the ground, inches from their necks. Cray's unconscious form joined the bodies. Ed relaxed his fighting stance, eying his brother.

"You need to remember to leave those fasteners in, for the last damn time, Al. You're lucky your head landed facing us." Al shrugged, moving to pick up his head. No blood, just the detached artificial tubes and the fake head. There was a brain beneath the plastic and metal, but hardly anything else was human. The same could be said with the rest of his body, besides his heart, a random bone, and his umbilical cord. Al aligned the connecting axle and reattached the tubes, artificial blood flowing through again. With a satisfying snap, the head locked into its joint. Ed rapped the helmet as soon as it was on. "No damage to your brain?"

"Don't think so. Lucky we swapped in the wireless nerves before coming here." Fasteners in, Al looked down. Rose was whimpering, paralyzing fear seizing her and allowing her only the option of sliding backwards on the ground. She looked ready to run, even though her shaking legs refused to do so.

"Stop staring, it's rude," Ed interjected. Al tested his helmet. It was turning fine… "He can't help it. Don't make it worse for him."

"Yeah, I could have…" Ed cut him short. He pressed a hand to his brother's shoulder.

"No. I've told you enough, it was both of our decision. We agreed and you're paying the worse toll, so I've got to make it up. Now stop with this shit." He said quietly. Behind Ed's back, Rose's stare turned curious.

"Rose… I'm sorry you had to see this, but this is the body of a sinner. We-"

"Went through hell… Yeah... But now, it's your turn." Rose's eyes grew wide in fear as Ed turned to face her. His eyes were dark: something that seemed impossible relative to the playful glint usually in his eyes. "Do you have the guts to face it now or later? Hell is a place that's much worse if you don't go willingly…"

* * *

AN: Sorry Rose fans, I went a bit extreme bashing her, but I didn't know how else to make Edward into the smug bastard he is for the first few episodes. Ed also seems kind of too smooth, but the story flows that way, I guess. Gotta get a bit OOC to make Ed fit into a society a century later…

Review, please! It'd help if you guys gave me as much constructive criticism as possible. I can't stress enough how new I am to posting on this site.

-Mars


	2. Willingly to Hell

AN: Part 2 of the actual story. It occurred to me that last chapter, I sort of dropped off at the middle of an important phase of this substory, so this chapter should make it a bit more complete... and make more sense. Lovely amount of violence, ye be warned. Dog lovers should also be warned, it's not very pretty what Ed and Al have to do instead of kill a chimera (how in the name of hell would Cornello get his hands on one in real life?)

* * *

Ed shot a glance over his shoulder. Al's tremendous pack twitched. He had to wonder how weird it was to have something wriggling in your backpack, considering a shaky, hesitant Rose was hiding in there.

He steeled his expression. His backpack was considerable lighter now, since he took out his gear. His bulletproof vest was tucked under his red shirt, plates bulging beneath the fitted tee. His zippered pants pockets held some last ditch equipment that he sorely wished he didn't need to resort to. His bracer, far less a deadly weapon compared to his pockets' contents, was hidden under his left sleeve. Ed flexed. The plating's straps tensed perfectly. He was ready.

A familiar door slammed open, revealing a surprised Cornello sitting behind his desk. He hadn't touched it yet… Nor seemed to have noticed that Ed had turned it on, which was a relief.

"Oh! And I thought you two were going to settle in for the night! May I help you with anything?" the Father's usual preachy voice was back, which was unsettling.

"Sure, like your true intentions. Mind confessing to the government gods? Perhaps we aren't as lenient if you repent, but it's better than being beat down by our gods' wrath." To Ed's excruciating irritation, Cornello merely seemed pleasantly confused.

"What do you mean? What intentions?" Ed had to give a nose sigh at this.

"Drop the act: you just tried to kill two government agents, we're not stupid. What's this sneaky little cult got in mind?" That eerie, uncharacteristic smirk from before curled Cornello's lips up.

"Of course. I should have known you two wouldn't die that easily. But nonetheless, you will both be dead by the end of the day. I can't have you two spoiling my work…" Perfect, this was going the right direction; just keep spilling the beans… Ed thought.

"And what work would that be? Tricking people into believing you can revive people? What's that going to do?" he asked. Cornello seemed quite amused.

"My, aren't you the slow one. How do you call yourself an Alchemist? What can you accomplish with a people following a holy cause that believes they can be returned from the dead?" the Father said, tauntingly.

"A religious army? How cliché."

"Effective, is it not? History has found them to be the most resilient group to grace the earth. Better yet, with this belief that I may ask God to revive them, these mindless pawns will fight, willingly, to the death, spurred on without inhibition! And as my following grows, I will have the means to replicate the Holy Crusades… Under my name!" Cornello shouted, throwing his arms out before him dramatically.

"And if your following suddenly shrinks and stops growing because everyone figures out you're a crackpot phony?"

"Why would they listen to anything but the word of God, or to the savior of this wretched town that was brought from shambles to riches?"

"Yeah, sure, they wouldn't listen to us two, but…" Ed glanced over at Al, who nodded and dropped to a knee. "What about…" Al's bag was zipped open, revealing a somewhat disheveled Rose, "her?"

"Rose?"

"Father! Is it true? What you just said?" Cornello grimaced.

"Well, yes, but now that all of you know my intentions, I must dispose of you all." Her eyes grew wide before a locking noise resonated in their ears. Somewhere, a switch had been activated, triggering…

The floor to drop. The two halves of the floor swung out under them, depositing the three below into the church. Smashing through one of the pews, Ed landed heavily on his left foot and rolled forward. He noted with a hint of amusement that Cornello had perched his office above the church, his desk above the statue of God. Sweeping the dust off his pants, he stared at Al, who was perfectly fine, save for the fact that he was panicking about Rose's sprained ankle. Al's metal body made one hell of a crater in the ranks of benches but… Surely there was a hitch to this; the fall wasn't meant to kill.

On cue, growls erupted around the trio. A rather large pack of growling, vicious dogs encircled them, saliva dripping from their bared, sharp fangs. Some gave threatening calls as they hopped over benches in the way, others merely giving a guttural growl. Their coats were thin and black and their noses elongated to house the multitude of teeth. Behind their mouths lay bloodshot eyes, faces distorted menacingly. It felt like they were fumigating some horrible vibe. Something was wrong with them. Rabies… Drugs… Either was likely with the twisted Father.

Thirty dogs and thirty teeth apiece. It was time to knock out every single one of them.

"That bastard Cornello… Al, guard Rose!" Ed roared as he slipped out of his pack and took off at the thinnest concentration of dogs. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Ed found himself sprinting at unbelievable speeds. He could hardly feel his legs wildly shooting through the air as his peripheral vision distorted. He latched a foot beneath the pew that one of the fierce animals was waiting on, kicking it up violently and sending both wood and flesh flying to the wall. Before the sickening crunch of splintering wood could be heard, the two dogs that had flanked the one on the pew launched at Ed, calls thundering and maws gaping. His arm speed around like a strike of lightening as his fighting speed continued to increase. The canine on the left was promptly killed with a fist embedded in its cranium, the one on the right soaring above him as he quickly ducked. He quickly stood up to ram his shoulder into the airborne dog's stomach, his glasses dropping onto his nose. Four more were fast approaching, two of which were already lunging at Ed. He pushed the glasses further up his nose. Ducking again to catch both by the throat, he spun them around, the dog's tails and his hair whipping around to smash into the other two dogs. With a reassuring crack of their necks with the extra speed, Ed flung both at the mass of barking canines encroaching Al, bowling over a few of them. The tiny pause to watch the damage done turned against him, as two more flung themselves at him. One latched onto his right arm, the other teething his left ankle. Ed cracked a smile.

"Wrong limbs, dumbasses!" He flipped sideways, catching his elbow into the dog's chest and crushing it into the ground. The other he violently kicked away into the air before he finished his flip. Neither had a chance to squeal before their deaths, but now wasn't the time to pity the beasts. Pushing off the elbow still in its chest, Ed flipped back onto his feet and charged towards Al and Rose. He glanced at his limbs. There was no blood, just ruptured skin and the glint of something shiny beneath the chaos of ripped skin and fabric.

Ed launched into the air, spinning backwards and crashing a heel into one of the dogs scrabbling at Al's metal back. Landing atop of another, he punched one away from Rose as Al began to go into the offensive. There was about ten left, to Alchemists' satisfaction. They beat away a few more before one had snuck up behind Ed. Hearing the war cry of the beast, he thrust his right elbow back into the source of the noise, eliciting a strangled yelp and the tear of fabric.

"Dammit… This shirt is uselessly now…" he muttered angrily as he inspected the teeth marks at the joint of his elbow. Its teeth must have clamped down from the furiously quick jab at the jaw joint, ruining his clothing. Channeling his temper into the next hit, he smashed the next one at Al's assailant, flattening the two dogs. The end result was a bit of a bloody mess: rabid saliva mingled with splatters of blood around the church. None of it was human blood though…

A slow clapping interrupted the brothers' victory. Ed glared at the intruder: a smug looking Cornello who had silently entered the room and stood by the altar.

"Very nice work. I expected no less from an Alchemist… No, two, if you can count someone that-"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A PUNY FLEA THAT NEEDS A MICROMETER TO MEASURE?" Cornello was rather taken aback by Ed's violent outburst. Al sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ed, calm down, you're not that small, he probably didn't mean it that way…"

"Right… Probably…" he growled, still keeping a furious eye on the Father. There was a tense pause where Father Cornello recovered from the odd shock. His malicious grin blossomed out of his dumbfounded face, carrying with it the haunting creepiness again.

"Well, continue to worry about that all you want. My martyrs carried with them a gift which they bestowed upon you. You'll enjoy your shortened lives now that the deadly viruses those filthy mutts carried are entering your systems. From the looks of it, all I have to wait through is a sermon for your cursed lives and you all will drop dead…"

"Really? Well, you just tried to kill the part of me that was half dead already!" Ed yelled, grabbing a glove full of the ruptured skin and ripped sleeve on his right arm and tearing hard. Synthetic imitations were shredded from the limb, leaving behind the shine of industrial materials.

A fake limb. Metallic; titanium and carbon to be specific. The almighty…

"Automail? Gah! Well I'll just have to deliver God's wrath myself!" Cornello shouted furiously, drawing a revolver from his robes and firing wildly at the three. Ducking behind an upturned pew, Ed deployed the shield on his automail arm. The armored plating wrapping the limb unraveled to create a small, bulletproof buckler on top of his forearm. It was a handy thing, Automail. Originally designed as a combat prosthetic for amputee veterans returning to the front line, it was being used exactly for that, and then some. In Ed's case, not only could he man the guns again, his arm carried with it the sort of gadgets only a spy flick had.

When Cornello's gun ran dry, he shot a glance towards his brother. His bulky form had covered Rose and deflected the bullets. Sensing both were uninjured, he stood up from behind the splintering bench. A defiant fire was in his eyes as he stared down the fake priest.

"Sorry to disappoint, but God would just send us straight back anyways, so give it up Cornello! You can still come quietly and no one else gets hurt!"

"Fool! I still have the whole city! Upon God's wish, you will be destroyed!" Ed suddenly burst with laughter, mirthful roars shaking his body.

"Really? You're the fool for thinking that! Did it occur to you that your sermon broadcasting equipment was on this whole time? My treat, you third rate idiot!" Cornello balked, stumbling back a few steps. Furious, he ducked under the altar and emerged with a tremendous rifle, with a barrel wide enough to fit a grenade. Convenient, considering that was what it was meant to shoot.

"Damn you! Damn you all! I'll kill you all and send you to hell with the Godhammer!" he screamed, taking aim at the blond. Ed smirked, kicking up a pew at the priest and breaking off in a different direction. The giant gun fired, the grenade exploding and spraying wood chips everywhere. In the chaos, the Alchemist slid around the remaining pews and sprinted at Cornello with stunning speed. The plating on his automail rearranged themselves again and locked into place, forming a giant blade extending from his wrist. Before the inept priest could react, his prized gun was slashed in half, the end of the barrel and the firing mechanism sailing towards a pillar. Cornello was once again too stunned to do anything, barely having enough time to follow Ed with his eyes. With the blunt side of his blade, he pushed Cornello to the ground, rolling to the bottom of the altar's steps. Impulsiveness seized the Alchemist, which rarely ended up with a sound product, but always the most "badass" methodology.

"You want Godhammer? I'll give you Godhammer!" His automail leg came smashing around to cut the towering statue's legs out. Before it could topple, Ed caught the statue, promptly flinging it at Cornello. A last minute change of heart allowed mercy on the idiot and sent the statue soaring above the priest, Al, and Rose's heads and through the door. He tensed his metal fist. Gadgets were fine and dandy, but unadultered strength was his style. The statue must have stood ten times his height and weighed hundreds more, but that wasn't much for him. It was a bit much for Cornello though: he was too shocked to really move. Nonetheless, Ed came over and stomped the wind out of him for good measure.

* * *

The two sat on the grand, sweeping stairs that lead up to the platform the church rested on. The crumbled "Godhammer" was conveniently parked behind them, which prompted Ed to climb atop it and observe the city. Deftly clambering up, he stared out into the urban expanse.

The disgruntled population was carting the fool off to somewhere, probably the cemetery. It was sunset, so it was just in time for the Father to tuck in and have his final slumber. Too bad he hadn't had the secret to bringing back life: once he was six feet under, there was no way out.

Ed sighed, folding his arms. "Fucking Mustang, he knew this mission would turn sour. I should never trust him and believe that we'll ever get an easygoing mission. Ugh…" he groaned. He paused for a moment, his expression softening. "And I thought maybe for a moment, right before you got your head shot off, if I let go of my skepticism we might actually see mom again and things would go back to normal. Of course, if I did, then I couldn't be called Edward Elric, huh?" he wondered aloud.

"Brother…"

"Yeah, I know. We need to give up on that. And now that there isn't a church to watch, we can pack up and go home," Ed yawned. Jumping back down to Al and their bags, he toyed with Al's helmet's decorative hair. The sun shimmered in the heat as it hid itself behind the buildings, casting long shadows across the area. The sunset's calming properties was agitating the older of the brothers, who was stretching out the exhaustion. The younger was watching the sun wistfully. Satisfied with his work, Ed shouldered his pack, Al promptly following suit.

"Well, let's get going. Who knows when the train'll-"

"Why? Why did you have to do this to us?" Again, Ed had to sigh. The girl could be with the mob disposing of Cornello, and instead, had to bug the two of them? He stared down the steps, where a distraught Rose was having a meltdown. Her pink bangs which usually shone brightly in the brown of the city were dulled with the glossing of tears, the orange of the sunset further distorting their color. Pathetic…

"He said he would bring him back… He said he would… But now…What is there left? What do I have to live for now? Tell me!" She screamed. Ed turned away from the burning desperation in her eyes. It was a look he was all too familiar with. One that he had once saw burning in his own eyes, reflected from the eyes of others he saw. Pity, of all things clawed at his chest. He started down the steps, avoiding his brother's stare.

"That's something you'll have to decide for yourself. It's a something that you'll need to stand up for and walk to grasp. Don't hesitate and linger; move forward. After all, you have two perfectly good legs to use."

* * *

Some two thousand miles away from Liore was the bustling city of Philadelphia. Pedestrians hustled around, walking quickly to satisfy their simple lives under the concrete jungle. There was far more activity than the isolated little city here. Brighter, colder, and much more colorful, the landscape was far more dynamic as well. One of the more unique aspects was a conspicuously tall skyscraper. It wasn't the tallest in the region, but it certainly stood out for being a skyscraper in the wrong location. Shifted slightly away from the rest of the towering behemoths, it dwarfed the multi-story buildings near it but enjoyed just as much traffic. It seemed normal besides its location, bearing the name of some obscure bank and receiving all sorts of people.

But if you actually tried to sign on with the bank, some sort of complication would arise. And rather peculiarly, nobody could find another that had actually listed the bank as their backer. The traffic that flowed through the doors also rarely turned up the same individuals within the same year.

It's the unusual guise for a high profile, yet excruciatingly secret government agency, nicknamed the Alchemists. Formed as far back as the beginning years of the country's founding, the group never mentioned their existence until recently, 2015, when the government decided to unleash its maximum potential. Already famous within the big wigs as "a group so talented, ruthless, and effective, they were borderline magicians," the government gave the Alchemists a new power: unlimited access and power. They could demand anything with their silver pocket watches that identified Alchemists without reasonable bounds to accomplish any mission.

Watch usage was monitored, but nothing was ever mentioned of what exactly the government was trying to accomplish. Protestors complained about their dictatorial Gestappo essence, but ironically, the Alchemists were called in to quiet them. After that, anyone could tell you they hated the Alchemists, but none could relate an actual story of a watch being flashed in their face. The federal unit fell into silence as the government relocated it as a last ditch, undercover solution. The go to remedy for any and every problem imaginable and expect it to work flawlessly. Their ranks were handpicked and varied in specialties, ranging from combat specialists, intelligence officers, tactical geniuses, and even researchers working on topics the government requested silenced. This research frequently carried much promise, often being "implemented" shockingly quickly by a group of public scientists dashing through "discovery" after "discovery". The point in the secrecy was the sensitive moral nature, but sometimes the allure of getting the sneak peek on advanced technologies attracted servicemen and scientists alike to work hard in hopes of being noticed for the Alchemists' selection. It was the bait that signed up a certain amber eyed man presently in the building.

* * *

"You dumbass, Elric, brash and pigheaded as usual, but at least I'm seeing results. Don't ever make me have to complement you again, even if it's paired with the usual insult." The manila folder skidded across the mahogany desk to a sour face framed with blond locks. The face's haughty owner refused to react to the unpleasant rivalry between himself and his superior across the desk. The matter wasn't helped by the dusty boots that were kicked up onto the desk, agitating the dark haired man with a combination of the offender's rudeness, dirtiness, and irritatingly relaxed pose. The usual, aggravating routine that involved the two was frequently wished away by both, but the uppers refused to relinquish the hate-love relationship between the top strategic mind of Colonel Roy Mustang and the top tactical infiltrator of Major Edward Elric.

"Bastard, thought you'd be saying the opposite, considering how much I accomplish these days," Ed grumbled. It was Mustang's turn to ignore the disparaging volley and remain collected. He tossed a silver pocket watch and its glittering chain at his subordinate. With surprising grace in the speed in which his hands moved, Ed caught the violently speeding time piece. While he fastened the chain to a belt loop of his black cargo pants, Roy swiveled his chair around to face the glass barrier between him and the sky. He was having too much fun with this new chair.

"Well, what else to I have to reprimand you about? Your torn shirt sleeves? Armstrong comes in without a shirt to begin with. That, and you're not short anymore, that won't work either."

"You asshole, I wasn't small enough to fall through a roll of plastic wrap, bastard! I was still growing and still am!" Ed roared as he involuntarily shot into the air. The scowl on his face deepened as he realized he dropped the chain in his outburst and had to refasten it.

"Whatever you say. You're still shorter than your temper." A pair of hands, one heavier than the other, slammed into his prized desk.

"OH YEAH? AND MY TEMPER HAPPENS TO BE VIRTUALLY NONEXISTANT, HUH?"

"Calm down, Fullmetal. Look how wound up you're getting from just that. I _suppose_ you should have a break now. While you were out in Liore, I contacted a fellow Alchemist, Shou Tucker, aptly named the Sewing Life Alchemist. He may be studying things that might interest you. His resume includes fusing two species previously thought genetically incompatible and virus-based cancers. Genetics have been a surprising field, and produces some interesting discoveries. I know for a fact that you two will need to sort out the telomere problem. Here's his file; address and contact information are included. I've talked to him in advance and you'll be living in with him. Now get out and do something worthwhile instead of bothering me. I'll call you two if I find a mission." Ed swiped the file before Mustang let it hit the desk and bounded up.

"Like we'd ever see you more than we need to. We'll try to be gone as long as possible, wet matchstick!" A vein popped under the black bangs of the Colonel.

"I told you, I-!" Mustang sighed when the door slammed shut behind the two. He squeezed his onyx eyes shut, but it was immediately followed by the entry of his assistant. The Colonel eyed his shapely Lieutenant, but not long enough for the woman who lived up to her name of "Hawkeye" to notice.

"Well, Riza, it certainly will be quiet for once in this office." The Lieutenant dropped his usual dose of coffee onto his desk.

"It's been less than ten seconds, Colonel, do you already miss them?" the Colonel scoffed as loudly as his subordinate had thirty seconds ago.

"You know the only thing stopping me from transferring out of The Alchemists is the fact that I get to make his antenna tremble every once in a while," he said tiredly. Caffeine in hand, he made sure to swivel around back to the city sights as she placed a fresh stack of paperwork on his desk.

"And _you_ know the back of your chair, as fancy, expensive, and new it is, won't do your paperwork, right?" He was sure that if he hadn't ordered the larger chair, she would have seen him cringe.

* * *

AN: Why does Al seem so useless? I know, he doesn't do much and he's the invincible iron block at the same time. Ed was pulling all the strings here, but I'll make sure those brothers don't forsake their mother's teachings and fucking share responsibility.

I also apologize for the dog scene… If you're uncomfortable about it, I get it. But anyhow, please review? I feel pitiful for having to beg for them.

-Mars


End file.
